September bows with quiet grace,  
A golden glow upon her face.  
She lingers in the autumn air,  
Then whispers soft, *"Take time, take care."*  

The leaves begin their slow descent,  
A drifting dance of sweet lament.  
Her days, once touched by summer’s light,  
Now yield to dusk and earlier night.  

The apples fall, the fields grow bare,  
The scent of woodsmoke fills the air.  
Her mornings crisp, her evenings clear,  
A fleeting pause in time’s great sphere.  

Oh, September, you’ve been kind,  
With moments rich and days refined.  
You brought us peace, you brought us change,  
A world in hues both soft and strange.  

But now your time has reached its close,  
As autumn deeper still it grows.  
You step aside with gentle care,  
And leave the earth in autumn’s stare.  

Farewell, sweet month of softest gold,  
Your beauty never grows too old.  
In memory’s arms, you’ll always stay,  
The bridge between the bright and gray.